Deep Sky
by Yrfeloran
Summary: The deep air of Serenno hides many secrets. For QuiGon Jinn, it holds both mystery and terror. For his Master Dooku, old memories and a challenge he has to answer.
1. The Roses of Serenn

"I believe it's common enough for people who are not entirely content with the disposition of their parents to dream that they themselves were changelings."

-Christopher Lee, _Lord of Misrule_

I - The Roses of Serenn

Qui-Gon

75-74 BBY

Republic fast courier _Thornwing_ was a small ship. It wasn't crowded, exactly, but there was no privacy. Qui-Gon Jinn was mostly comfortable with that - privacy was pretty much an illusion where Master Dooku was concerned anyway. Dooku considered it his duty to know what was going on in his apprentice's life. Besides, Qui-Gon had enough to occupy him. Tactics exercises, the overview of the politics of the Mid-Rim Senate caucus he had to write, two hundred pages of philosophy readings...

To think other Padawans sometimes had free time. Qui-Gon had thought that their long circuit of the Tingel Arm was over, but Dooku had unexpectedly diverted them off the Hydian Way to a planet called Serenno. While Qui-Gon wasn't all that fond of Coruscant, they'd been a long time away. Even if he would have to cut his hair and toe the line, it would be nice to be back.

Strolling from the sleeping quarters in the back to the cockpit, Dooku paused to watch his Padawan from the hatchway. Qui-Gon noted the change in his manner - a swift shift from 'Jedi Master' to 'Formal Social'. Dooku had many such faces - in the past year or so Qui-Gon had really started to notice the subtle differences and how other people reacted very differently depending on which face his master was using. It was both fascinating and slightly scary. Scary because Qui-Gon was not sure which face, if any, portrayed the truth of the man.

He'd worked up the nerve to ask once - Dooku had just smiled slightly and said, 'It's all the same.' Which wasn't really helpful. He'd told Dooku that too, and Dooku's smile had faded. 'It's not my place to be helpful anymore.' he had said. 'I've given you the foundations. What you build of yourself on that has to be your doing.'

Now, Dooku apparently considered it his place to make Qui-Gon's existence a living hell. The basics of Dooku's training philosophy had been apparent since Qui-Gon had first been apprenticed. Dooku placed an emphasis on independence and personal responsibility. In the rare cases where Dooku was sent out on missions with other Jedi, Qui-Gon was generally trusted with more important tasks than they.

These days Qui-Gon worked without immediate supervision on their missions, for the most part. Sometimes Dooku set him an urgent task to accomplish, though that was rare. Sometimes Qui-Gon did research, or social duties. The worst missions, though, were when Dooku pointed him at a situation and told him to find out what was going on, and do what he thought necessary.

Those weren't tests. Those were real, and people had _died_ because Qui-Gon had made the wrong choices. People had died because he had made the right ones too. 'Do not pretend that your actions have no consequences,' Dooku had said, when the judiciary of Oggde had asked Qui-Gon to execute a traitor that his investigations had uncovered and helped to convict. 'You may refuse, but they will kill him anyway. Take responsibility for your actions, and understand what they may lead to.' Qui-Gon remembered that day like it was yesterday, remembered how Dooku had gently corrected his grip on the saber's hilt and steadied his shaking hand before Qui-Gon had walked up to the kneeling man and ended his life. The man had had four children. One of them - Qui-Gon's age - had watched.

Qui-Gon hadn't received a mission briefing for this side trip. That in itself was enough to make him very, very nervous.

"I'm adjusting the atmospheric controls," Dooku finally said. "Pressure will go up to one-point-six Coruscant standard over the next ten minutes. We've handled pressurization, you know what to do."

"Is this Serenno then?" Qui-Gon abandoned his work and scrambled to the cockpit to look down on the world. Hazy, greenish-gold, very small oceans, weird continents. Seemed like the planet had plate tectonics, but low surface water. Basaltic 'oceanic' plates were exposed and vegetated, with true continents in high plateaus above. There was a decent-sized icecap on what Qui-Gon arbitrarily decided was the northern continent, with a much smaller one in the south "ocean". The lowlands had large-scale patterning that struck him as artificial. "What's with the spirals?" he asked.

"Those are the gardens," Dooku said absently. He wasn't actually flying the ship; he was just programming the autopilot. "I'm not sure if you'll be able to visit."

"Gardens?" Qui-Gon's eyes were wide. "Those are...big gardens. I thought this was a small colony? Around ten thousand, right?" He swallowed, letting his ears pop. He could definitely sense the change in the air.

"Well, at least you did some research. Yes and no. Ten thousand-odd Republic citizens."

That kind of differentiation usually implied slavery. Qui-Gon nodded. "That would help explain the GDP." Serenno's wealth was comparable to many of the oldest core worlds; he'd thought that had to be a mistake.

His master leaned back. "Not quite. Serenno is in some ways in a comparable position to Thyf-" A communications indicator flashed, and Dooku pressed it, signaling silence and opening the audio channel.

A deep human voice with a soft and strange accent was transmitted. "Republic courier, identify yourself. This is Indrea di Serenn for the Planetary Corporation of Serenno."

Dooku's Coruscant accent was crisp in reply. "This is Jedi Knight Dooku and Padawan Apprentice Qui-Gon Jinn in fast courier _Thornwing_. We are here for independent training and require no local government assistance."

Qui-Gon signaled Dooku with one hand, a double repetition of 'mission' implying a question. His ears popped again.

"I see," Indrea said. A short pause, and Dooku signed 'patience' back to his apprentice. "The Corporation will waive your docking fees. Here are your landing coordinates."

Dooku watched the data transmission. "Received. We should be down within ten minutes." His hand moved to cut the channel.

"Very good. And Idis...?" There was an odd edge to Indrea's soft voice as he continued. Dooku's hand froze. "Welcome home."

"Ah." Dooku's face was peculiarly blank. "Thank you._ Thornwing _out."

The courier vessel swooped over hazy lowlands far below, before reaching one of the great continental plates. Blue lakes shimmered, and the great valleys where rivers descended into the deep basalt country were easy to pick out, even at their speed. Far inland and perpendicular to the concave coastline, massive mountains scraped the sky, where continents had collided long past. The ship was flying into the sunset, and the planet's star burned a vibrant violet-red behind the mountains. The ship began a swifter descent towards the great wrinkled plateau beneath them, but Qui-Gon saw no signs of civilization until just before their ship settled alone on a small landing pad. A small crowd had gathered. Qui-Gon cleared his ears one last time before running a hand through his shaggy hair and falling in behind his master.

He stopped on the ramp, a little wide-eyed. Okay, that was creepy. The reception party seemed equally curious about him and Dooku, though it was fairly well behaved. Ten men and three women, the men standing around Qui-Gon's height and the women slightly shorter. They were universally dark-haired and all dark eyed - with a recognizable similarity of bearing and features to Dooku. Some of the body language was even the same, though a lot more obvious and they were far easier to read in the Force. Curiousity and anticipation were the primary emotions he sensed, like a faint scent on the wind, but there were deep undercurrents that Qui-Gon didn't understand.

Even Dooku was acting odd. His usual composure seemed almost forced as he glanced towards a massive stone building in the valley behind them. It was not enough that the strangers would notice, but Qui-Gon definitely did.

"He's not usually this shy," Qui-Gon heard Dooku say as his master looked significantly back at him. Qui-Gon walked slowly down the ramp, smiling automatically as Dooku introduced him to Indrea, a middle-aged man who seemed to be in charge. Qui-Gon looked down slightly at Indrea, and blinked as Dooku's eyes seemed to look back at him from the man's face, considering him with cool reserve. His uneasiness grew.

"What a fine young man," Indrea said. Qui-Gon blinked as someone unexpectedly touched his hair. He turned his head slowly - it was a girl his age, who drew her hand back guiltily and blushed slightly.

"Arde!" Indrea chided. "My apologies, Qui-Gon." He seemed to have a little difficulty pronouncing the name. "We don't get many guests here. Not human ones, in any case. The pressure makes them uncomfortable."

"It's not bad," Qui-Gon said politely. Most human-habited planets in the Core had been altered in the far distant past to conform to a small 'comfortable' range of temperature, pressure, and gravity. Outside that range, artificial habitats were usually used. The pressure here was well outside normal, and not something he'd ever dealt with before in the field. It was definitely _weird_, but it was tolerable in the short term. "I don't think I'll have any problems."

Indrea nodded and gazed thoughtfully at Dooku, who returned the look. Finally Indrea said quietly, "He doesn't have long. Come this way." Dooku nodded and indicated Qui-Gon was not to follow.

Most of the crowd had dispersed or was following Indrea, but the girl Arde tugged on his sleeve. "Do you want me to show you to your room?"

"I didn't realize we were staying the night."

"You are." Arde smiled a little. "Come on, I'll show you. You're in the great house."

Arde's voice wasn't as deep as Dooku's, and she had that odd accent, but Qui-Gon found himself almost automatically obeying anyway. It was a bit of a wake-up call to how deeply his master had conditioned him, but Qui-Gon shelved that thought away to consider later. He could see the "great house" now - it reminded him a bit of the palaces on Alderaan. It was an isolated ancient building of significant size, but not enormous.

The air smelled floral, and Arde glanced back at him with a little smile and opened a side gate on the path to the house. Qui-Gon looked through into a wide garden. "Am I getting the full tour, then?"

"It's a shortcut," Arde said. "Sort of." She strode in. Qui-Gon took a few steps after her and stopped, drinking the sight in.

The gardens appeared on first sight to have a wild disheveled look to them, but Qui-Gon perceived that this was an illusion. The gentle hands of hundreds of gardeners must have shaped this landscape. There were a few great trees grown to full maturity, knee-high grasses and mossy shrubs, and coiling, twisting flower-vines. The vines were everywhere, a loosely woven veil over the garden. They arched over the polished stone pathway, snaked through the grass, and climbed the trees. Their pale gold flowers were large and many-petaled, while their leaves were dark green and serrated, streaked with deep yellow. Their lovely smell was not overpowering, but it seemed to wash over Qui-Gon, soothing the feeling of the uncomfortable pressure in the air and giving the him the illusion of clarity.

This was a place where plants were loved. Qui-Gon touched a leaf, and then ran a hand carefully over three vines braided together.

Arde walked back into view, raising her eyebrows and putting away a comlink. "Are you coming?"

"What kind of flowers are these?" Qui-Gon asked.

"That's Serenn's rose," Arde said. "She planted it more then a thousand years ago. It's the only one anywhere."

Qui-Gon's eyebrows rose. "Just one plant?"

"Oh yes. Come on, unless you want to sleep in the garden."

He wouldn't _really_ have minded doing just that, but Qui-Gon followed anyway. He looked around at the twining vines and decided he'd have to come back here. At the side door of the house, the vine-thicket was sculpted into a wide woven passageway leading to stone steps. The door at the top was unlocked, and Arde swung it open and ducked inside.

The ceilings were tall and made of vaulted stone. It was less stifling indoors than Qui-Gon had feared. The hallways were not crowded, though they passed a man who stopped and stared at Qui-Gon for a moment before continuing on his way.

The Force sparked in Qui-Gon's mind, and his threat intuition started twitching about six seconds before three more women came around the corner.

"He's new," the foremost of them said. She was taller than Qui-Gon, which was a little alarming, especially since she was giving him a frankly appraising look. She stepped up close, looking down her nose at him.

"He's Idis's apprentice," Arde said. "Qui-Gon Jinn."

"Qui-Gon," the girl said, smiling - or at least showing her teeth. Qui-Gon felt rooted to the ground. "My name is Astel."

"A pleasure," Qui-Gon said quietly. He was surrounded now. The two other girls, mentally tagged as scary she-Dooku #3 and #4, moved up to flank him. This was not a situation that he thought could be solved with a lightsaber. He'd just have to go with it.

"Be glad we got to you...first," Astel said. "The Contessa's hounds are also on the hunt. This way."

The situation was swiftly spiralling out of control. Qui-Gon nodded - he didn't think Astel was lying, exactly, She did think it was a good thing for him that she'd found him first. Whether it was actually a good thing or not, he wasn't sure.

Dooku would want him to investigate. Stretching out with the Force, Qui-Gon could feel an aura of ominous anticipation suffusing the house and the minds of its residents. _Something_ was happening, and Qui-Gon felt there was much more going on beneath the surface here than was immediately apparent. He allowed himself to be shepherded into a side-corridor, and then into a spartan room with two long beds. Astel sat down on one, and Qui-Gon took the other. Arde hopped up on the bed beside him, while #3 stood near the door and #4 also sat. Or maybe vice-versa. They all looked so very alike, especially the last two.

There was an increasingly awkward silence as Astel looked Qui-Gon over. #3 looked serene, but Qui-Gon sensed she was nervous. Arde was bouncing a little on the bed.

"Your hair is really nice," she blurted suddenly. "It's kind of...I didn't realize real people had hair like that. It's really pretty."

"Er," Qui-Gon said. He was beginning to realize Arde was much younger than he had assumed - it was because she was so tall. Humans here was much taller than average, possibly due to the slightly lower gravity, possibly genetic. It was nice because he didn't have to worry about hitting his head on ceilings, which was becoming a problem on Coruscant and elsewhere. Unfortunately, he was having to reassess some of the unconscious assumptions he made about people based on their appearance. He was sure Dooku's suggested solution to that would be to never make unconscious assumptions, but Qui-Gon needed to lean on intuition at times or he'd go crazy. Unfortunately, his intuition wasn't helping him here. "Thanks? It's not that rare where I'm from."

"Can I braid it?"

"Um." Qui-Gon smiled a little nervously. "Ah, sure." It couldn't hurt. Dooku would probably be amused. Astel was definitely amused. And he might get some information about what exactly was going on out of it. "Do you know where my master is?"

Astel gave him a look. "He's with the Execsar. Indagren sent to him. Asked him to come here."

"What about me? Why am I here?"

Arde chimed in. "Oh, I don't think we were expecting you. At least, Father didn't ask me to come meet you until an hour ago." Qui-Gon winced as she tugged on his Padawan braid. He probably should have said no.

"Do you know why this Indagren asked to see Dooku?" Qui-Gon continued.

"He's the Execsar." Arde shrugged, pulling one plait tighter. "I expect it's because he's dying."

"Chief of State," Qui-Gon murmured, remembering that from the planetary fact sheet he'd glanced over. "But why would he want to talk to my master?"

"Oh, well, it's probably about the Contessa. And he's curious, too. Everyone's curious about how Idis turned out. Usually people come back from being taken. They come home, where they belong."

"My mother's mother was taken by the Jedi," Astel said. She studied Qui-Gon. "But she came back when she was Arde's age. She doesn't talk about it. We need to know what has been done to him. We need to know what sort of man he is. And if, after all that, he is still di Serenn."

#3 spoke. "How long have you known him?"

"I've been his apprentice for seven years," Qui-Gon said. "But look, I don't care who you are. It's not my place to gossip about my master."

"We're not looking for gossip," Astel said. "We know the principles of the Order, and information has trickled back about his deeds there. The Corporation has been keeping track of him, after all. I want you to tell me what it means to be a Jedi. For you and for him."

"Being a Jedi means I am a servant of the Republic. I'm not a pawn in your...power struggles." Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes. "And I won't allow myself to be."

"Idis came. I don't believe he is a stupid man. He knew what he was getting into." Astel replied.

"I will say this," Qui-Gon said seriously. "Do not try to _use_ Dooku in your schemes. You will regret it." Astel's eyes flicked to the side, and then Qui-Gon felt a soft caress across his face, and a kiss to the base of his neck. He yelped, jerked away, and fell off the bed. It wasn't the first time a girl had touched him like that, but the combination of that and the lazy, very Dooku-ish grin on Astel's face was just too much.

"They say a Jedi knows neither fear nor desire. Is that true?" Astel's eyes pinned him again. They had that considering look that Dooku's often had before he sent Qui-Gon into some new and creative test of his abilities. Oh, _stars_, what if Dooku had planned this? Independent training was a criminally vague descriptor, especially from _his_ master.

"Don't--don't touch me." Qui-Gon's voice was shakier than he would have liked. It was #4 that had actually kissed him, he discovered upon looking up. Or maybe #3? Either way it was less creepy than Arde, but still six kinds of disturbing, and Force, he could not allow the situation to get to him. He was trembling a little, but he stilled himself with an effort.

"Why n-," Astel was smiling as she started to speak. But Qui-Gon felt the shifting power dynamic in the room just before her expression abruptly changed. He looked up from the floor and saw Dooku in the doorway. The man's eyebrows were slowly climbing up his forehead, but he moved decisively to stand over Qui-Gon, scattering the pack of girls.

"_Out_," he said. Three of them promptly disappeared, and there was only Astel wearing an expression that said she knew she was in over her head but was too proud to admit it. Qui-Gon couldn't bring himself to feel sorry for her. Dooku's right hand was at his side, clenched into a fist.

"They say an apprentice is like a son to a Jedi." Astel said. She was not so intimidating now, just a pale shadow of Qui-Gon's true master.

"They do," Dooku said, betraying nothing in his voice.

"Then he's a part of this too."

Dooku just looked at her, until at last she, too, fled the room.


	2. Changeling

II: Changeling

Dooku

_just prior_

The first thought that struck Dooku's was how much smaller the house was than he remembered it as being. He recalled a cavernous place a small boy could easily get lost in, or lose himself, if he wished. The jaded eyes of an older Dooku now saw merely a mansion. Elegant, but not as large or luxurious as some of the galactic palaces he'd been in. Fortunately, not as tacky either.

"I see you know where you're going," Indrea said, after Dooku outpaced him. Dooku paused, looked down the stairs they were climbing, and nodded slightly at him. He should probably slow down, but he was having a hard time integrating past and present and getting the residual emotions this place brought out in him under control.

The great double doors to the Execsar's office stood before them. He'd shed everybody in the group following him but Indrea, who opened the door for him and followed after. The room was softly lit, and panelled in brown wood. Dooku walked to the center of the room and regarded the man in front of him.

Indagren looked awful. His skin looked like splotched paper, and he could barely lift his head. Beside Dooku, Indrea bowed his head in deep respect. Dooku almost did the same, but remembered he was a Jedi now. Indagren had to acknowledge that.

"Scion mine," the ruler of Serenno finally whispered, when it became clear that Dooku would not yield to him. "I wondered if you would come."

"I am here," Dooku said, moving closer so that he would not miss a word.

He heard nothing but labored breathing for a few seconds, and then the Execsar spoke again. "I wondered, sometimes, if you were lost to us. My sister came back. The others all came back. It is a rare, rare thing to be taken by the Jedi, rarer still to be chosen to become one. You would be a great asset to our world. Yet we heard no word. We sent your share of earnings to the Temple - yet still we heard no word. And then you sent it back. What did you mean by this?"

Dooku sighed. "The Jedi thought it wise to remove the memories of my life here. I was old when I was taken, and my memories were clear. I did not discover the payments made in my name until a few years ago. I then thought to search for such mental tampering and found it."

"So your dividends did not go to you."

"Of course not. Jedi do not have personal wealth."

"Then where did they go?"

"The Council is the collective caretaker of the wealth of the Jedi. They were...spent."

"Wisely?"

"No."

"Ah. So you defied your Council and donated your portion back to the Corporation. An interesting act. It brought you back to my attention." Indagren's head lolled back, and the hoverchair adjusted to support it, so that their eyes met again. "You trust me more than your masters. That is also interesting."

Dooku inclined his head slightly, unsure of what to say. He wasn't certain if Indagren's observation was truth, and that disturbed him..

"I am dying, child," Indagren continued, his speech slurring slightly. "Indrea has been doing most of my work for years. Yet he does not have the...spark... to rule the decision cascade. I have made my will clear that he is to be my successor, but that will not be enough. The Contessa is about to make her move."

The other man in the room turned to Dooku. "Her cult of personality is strong enough that I will have to step aside when the time comes. We've known this for years now. She is clever, and ruthless in her desire to claim what she thinks is her birthright. Our firmest supporters, long members of our cohort, are wavering. Everyone knows Indagren is fading."

"She, too, is an asset to the world." Indagren said. "But she_ cannot _be allowed to become Execsar. Not merely for our sake, but for hers."

"I am a Jedi," Dooku said, sensing where the conversation was going and deciding now was the time to voice his objection. "I am a man not of your cohort, to add my voice to yours. I am not of any cohort. In fact - and you know this very well as you both were there - I am not even di Serenn. Interfering in this internal political matter is so far beyond my mandate that it is insulting that you ask it of me."

"And if I named it treason?" Indagren asked.

"Put in a request for assistance to the Council. You cannot just...commandeer me."

"I don't want the Jedi Council," Indagren said. "I want you."

Dooku crossed his arms. "I am here. My presence in this moment is _all _I will allow you to demand of me, Execsar."

Indrea walked over to the desk. "I thought you'd jump at the chance to prove yourself against her."

"The life of a Jedi is full of sacrifices," Dooku replied coldly.

"_Hnn_. And now we come to it." Indagren's voice was a frail echo of how Dooku remembered it, but there was still that deep edge that thousands of Serenni had obeyed without question.

Dooku glanced back at him, feeling irrationally unbalanced. "I am a Jedi, a full Knight with an apprentice of my own. In a handful of years I will be a Master. I was given to the Order. You cannot demand me back now that it suits you."

"Can't we?" Indrea said. "All our gifts serve Serenno - mine and the Execsar's and Anare's and Singer Andem's - and the talents of every child and cohortman. You've felt the deep air close over you again. This world will always call you home."

Dooku's hand slammed down on Indagren's desk without warning, with a sharp retort that both of the other men flinched at. "The Force is _not_ a gift. Not for one such as I. It is a responsibility, and one so enormous that I sometimes think I am not equal to it. I have to live up to that. I have to find what purpose I am meant for. The greatest Jedi, Execsar, understand they are only instruments. I could arrange to be the appointed Guardian of this sector, yes. It would be well within my powers - but it would not challenge me. I am called to more. The Force gave of itself to me, and I have to prove myself worthy of that. I am the most powerful Jedi that has been born to the Republic in twenty generations. To waste my talents here would be to condemn everyone my talents could have saved in the greater galaxy to death, every injustice I could have righted to cruelty. I do not allow the avoidance of a Jedi's responsibilities in my apprentice, and I will never, _never_ allow it in myself."

"Pride!" Indagren said, and his voice rose above a whisper for the first time with obvious effort. His deep voice sounded rough and ill-used. "You are a driven man, Idis-my-child. Perhaps you have been called to something beyond the caretakership of our little world. _Yet you came back_."

The dying man's accusation stung - it was not the first time it had been leveled. And it was not without truth, either. Dooku was honest enough to admit that to himself. He sighed, and touched the Force, felt it flowing out of Indagren and into oblivion even as they spoke.

"Give me your hand." The Execsar's voice fell back to a whisper.

Dooku hesitated, then reached across the desk. The great man's hand was shaking, but managed to clasp his own. Something rounded and heavy passed from the Execsar's palm to his, before the age-spotted hand drew back.

"A gift, Jedi."

"I am not permitted possessions."

"It is not a possession," Indagren said, looking up at his eyes. His drawn and wrinkled face was smiling ever-so-slightly. "It is a responsibility. And it is yours whether you accept it or not."

Dooku looked down at it. The object was a woman's signet ring, platinum, ancient and well-worn. It bore the seal of Serenno, and on the inside, the royal arms of Alderaan. It dated, no doubt, from the time Serenno had been a colony of that world.

He closed his eyes, and his fingers curled around the ring almost unthinkingly. "That's _cheating_," he said.

After he left Indagren and Indrea, he drifted through the hallways, finding Qui-Gon effortlessly. He frowned and picked up his pace as he felt the boy was in distress. When he came to the room they had been assigned, he found it occupied. He silently opened the door, seeing four young ladies in the process of harassing_ his _apprentice. Said apprentice was now on the floor in a confused heap, his Padawan braid inexpertly rewoven with pink ribbons.

Dooku blinked.

Automatically he stepped in and took control of the situation. Three of the girls were easy to scare off, but the woman who had been in charge was less easily evicted. She was younger than he - he didn't know her name, but he would learn it before they met again, and she would regret this.

Finally, the room was empty. Dooku walked back to the door, closing it. He turned back towards his apprentice. "Somebody's popular today."

Qui-Gon picked himself off the floor and muttered "Tell me about it."

"Do you want to tell me what just happened?" Dooku did not allow himself to smile.

Qui-Gon appeared to think about that. "Not really." His hand stole through his hair, and he made a face when he encountered the ribbons. "I look ridiculous, don't I."

A nod. "Do you know who the cohort-leader there was?" Dooku asked. He thought about clarifying, as he was settling into Serenni patterns of thought that Qui-Gon might not be able to follow. But his apprentice caught his drift.

"The girl in charge was called Astel. She ambushed me in the hallway. I think the one who met me at the landing pad set it up. Her name was...Arde? Started with an 'a', anyway. I don't see how anyone can tell these people apart."

"...ah." Dooku said. _That_ second cousin. Things became slightly clearer. "They all start with 'a', by the way. It's the local female name-marker. Like 'i' for the men. That was Indrea's daughter Arde, yes."

"Do you know this Astel?"

"The name. She is...not inconsequential, but not a significant player."

Qui-Gon blinked. "A significant player in _what_? And how well do you know these people? This is your family, right?"

Dooku suppressed a sigh. Of course Qui-Gon would pick that up. "I don't have a family. I am Jedi."

"Well...everyone looks exactly the same and they sort of feel the same and they all do the thing you do and it's really...kind of...alarming. What am I supposed to think here?"

"The thing?" Dooku raised an eyebrow, trying to deflect Qui-Gon's line of questioning.

Qui-Gon waved his hands. "The _thing_. With the eyes and the face and the voice and...it's hard to explain."

"I see," Dooku said blandly.

Qui-Gon made a face, then looked at him with an_ I'm sort of obliged to say this _expression. "You know, I have the feeling the Council wouldn't be happy if they knew what you were up to."

Which was perfectly true, but irrelevant. "The Council should spend their time sorting out that trade dispute that's starving the rimward side of the Corellian Trade Spine and learn to trust my judgment. Given it's better than theirs."

Qui-Gon teased a ribbon out of his hair. Dooku felt the outburst building a few seconds before Qui-Gon turned to him and snapped, "Master, for once could you tell me_ what is going on_?"

Dooku thought about how to answer that. He settled on honesty. "I'm not entirely certain." He turned the lights to their dimmest before settling on one bed. Drawing his knees to his chest, he sank into meditation, his hand still gripping the platinum ring.

Qui-Gon had worked much of the night. One of his assignments was finished and had been placed on a side table for review when Dooku brought himself out of his meditative state. That was how the pair of them usually worked; Qui-Gon had the early evenings to himself until Dooku woke, usually around midnight. It was a rhythm of life shaped by their own preferences and the fact that they would otherwise drive each other crazy. It had also saved their lives at least twice.

Normally Dooku allowed himself six hours of meditation, but six stretched to ten as his unconscious mind had integrated the few shreds of information he had into some semblance of a plan. Qui-Gon must have been worried, but not obviously not worried enough to wake him up. He rarely ran over - it was a lapse in self-discipline.

The short Serenni night was nearly over, and Dooku devoted the hour or two until the day began in earnest to research. The voter rolls were a treasure trove of information, but mostly about names and faces. More important data about power relationships and cohorts was harder to come by.

Qui-Gon's snoring stopped. The boy rolled over. "I brought over our effects," he said, before disappearing into the refresher.

"I noticed, thank you." Dooku had been too preoccupied to arrange for that vital piece of logistics, but, well, that was what apprentices were for. He stripped down out of his robes and started stretching, waiting for Qui-Gon to finish.

Soon enough Qui-Gon reappeared, finishing up his braid. One of those girls yesterday had fiddled with it enough that it needed to be completely redone. Probably Arde, and she could almost certainly be blamed for the ribbons too. "What now?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Get dressed," Dooku said. "Then breakfast." He must have let a shadow of his own apprehension escape, because Qui-Gon looked up sharply.

"Breakfast with who?"

"Everybody." Well, nearly everybody that mattered and then some. The population of the great house was about fifty, and they all came together for morning meal.

They came early to the great hall. Dooku pointed Qui-Gon to the children's table where a place for him had been set, with the explanation that Astel probably wouldn't harass him there. Though really, that girl should be the least of his worries. Other Serenni of the blood were far more dangerous, and Dooku wanted to make it clear his apprentice was off-limits. The near-circular arc of the high table was only just starting to fill. Dooku stopped in front of it and looked around, noting the positions that were reflective of status in the family. As guest, his seat was set opposite the Execsar's chair. Indrea would be on the Execsar's right, Contessa Anare on his left.

Dooku smiled slowly. Most of the table was still empty, and so he wandered around the table and took a seat two to Indagren's left. He had been attracting curious glances before - those looks were becoming a lot more calculating as people assessed the implications. He noted Astel coming in with her parents. The staff came out to set the serving dishes before taking their seats at the bases of the arc.

The hour chimed, and the Contessa came in. She was not somebody whose face Dooku had needed to look up. By art or craft, she looked much the same as she had when they had last seen each other. Harsher, perhaps, as the years had worn on her. And cold-eyed. She stopped in the doorway, and looked at him. He met her gaze.

"I see we have a guest," she said as she walked up, surrounded by her party. Her low alto carried across the room. "A stranger to this house and our customs."

She knew perfectly well who he was, and must have some idea of what he was up to. He said nothing. Finally the Contessa murmured, "We will forgive your ignorance, then," and motioned for the arc to fill in around him. Dooku had displaced Anare's daughter Amlur, quite on purpose. The room was nearly full now, but Dooku's mental count of people who should have been here was still short ten.

However, only eight more places had been set. As Indrea finally made his appearance with his family, it clicked. The missing youths must be going through the Serenni rite of passage.

The minutes passed. Dooku ignored the Contessa, and she ignored him back. Indrea, his wife, and three of their five children took their places to fill out the arc. His youngest girl, Arde, ran over to the children's table, much to Qui-Gon's dismay. The fifth was almost certainly out in the deep lands.

Indrea cleared his throat. "Execsar Indagren went into a coma late last evening. His physician is with him, but he is not expected to recover."

There was a soft murmur, and most of the table bowed their heads. Dooku did immediately, and after a moment he saw Qui-Gon copy him. Even the Contessa gave the dying man this respect.

But politics waited for no man. She looked up, speared Indrea with her gaze and asked, "Why was I not told immediately?" Her voice was not gentle, and Dooku tasted her anger in the air.

Indrea frowned. "The Execsar asked that it be announced at breakfast."

There were murmurs at that. "How terribly convenient of him to inform you beforehand."

"This day has been coming. He has made all his wishes clear, Anare."

"He tells you. He writes nothing down. Perhaps his mind succumbed to his illness before his body ever did."

The tension at the table rose. Indrea was almost speechless. "You _dare_?"

"You cannot hide behind words forever, cousin Indrea," the Contessa said. "The will of the people will be done." She looked up and raised her voice. "The day is broken."

Point to Anare. She'd seized the Execsar's role in the meal-ritual, and from the look on Indrea's face he knew he'd lost ground. Her insult to the Execsar and Indrea would not convert any to her cause, but she had enough support already that the planet would follow her. Dooku frowned thoughtfully.

The meal began. General courtesy in passing plates around broke down in the area between Dooku and Indrea, but the food available was enough that it wasn't an issue.

Conversations slowly sprang up again as people began to finish, though the real political maneuvering wouldn't start until the 'other side' was not there to eavesdrop.

_Though perhaps I am wrong about that_, Dooku thought as the Contessa glanced over the Execsar's empty seat to Indrea. "You were the last person the Execsar spoke to, then."

"No," Indrea said. "I was not. He spoke last to Idis."

"There is none by that name." Anare said.

"Nevertheless, he was there," Indrea said, sounding amused.

"You must admit the circumstances and timing are at the least...suspicious." Anare turned to her left. "Did you kill him, then, guest?"

That was _it_. Dooku's resolve not to be drawn into a pointless argument withered right there in deep insult. Looking up, he smiled thinly, "I can't imagine he'd import an assassin, if he was so inclined. You're perfectly qualified."

"It speaks!" Anare said, pointing a fork at him. "But it is already being tiresome."

"Perfectly qualified." Dooku repeated. He wasn't four anymore, and his anger was under control. He raised an eyebrow and glanced across to the man he'd pegged as her latest...consort. "After all, an assassin is just another kind of whore." Indrea raised both his eyebrows - other conversations were dying down as the confrontation that had been inevitable since the moment she walked in the room swirled into full battle.

"You were such a horrible little boy," the Contessa said, unphased and sipping at her tea. "I see the Jedi haven't beaten that out of you either."

_She has no power over you._ Dooku told himself, but felt remembered anger and ancient humiliations rise. He had control of his body language, mostly - but Qui-Gon had to have picked that up. The boy was very sharp when he applied himself. _You are better than this. Be an example to your apprentice. _That mantra had served him well elsewhere. But here he was not a Jedi, even if he was not that little boy either.

"I saw through you when I was three, Anare," he said, instead of going for her throat.

"We had such high expectations of you," the Contessa replied. "Such a pity." She stood, working her way around the table. Dooku frowned slightly, his intuition prickling - and tensed when she unexpectedly stopped at the children's table.

"Qui-Gon Jinn," she said, intonation perfect. Qui-Gon had already been watching her surreptitiously. He twitched a little when she suddenly addressed him.

"Yes, er...I'm afraid we haven't been introduced." Qui-Gon's Coruscant accent stood out just as badly as Dooku's did.

"Contessa Anare di Serenn."

"Pleased to meet you," Qui-Gon said carefully, sneaking a glance up at Dooku. Dooku did not let his face betray anything - he was close to furious, but damned if he'd show it. He concentrated on calming his emotions. Perhaps it was true that the easiest way to get to him was through his apprentice, but intelligent people usually realized it was not the _wisest_ way. Dooku took his responsibility to defend Qui-Gon very seriously indeed.

"Are you busy this morning?" Anare asked.

"I...don't know yet."

The Contessa put one hand on her hip and smiled brightly at him. "While your master is being terribly rude, _you _are a guest in my house. I would be pleased to show you around." It sounded like more of an order than an offer.

Qui-Gon looked at her, then glanced up at Dooku nervously for a second. Dooku was still.

"Um...all right then," Qui-Gon said, seeming to feel the expectations of the room weighing on him. Though maybe it was just his natural talent for getting himself in trouble at work again. Dooku did not allow himself to scowl as he watched his apprentice follow _her_ out of the room.

Breakfast broke up in Contessa Anare's absence. Dooku debated tracking the pair of them down, but finally decided it wouldn't help. Instead he went to the library. There was something calming about the presence of so many actual books. He knew the local runes used for proper names, but he'd never had to learn how they were classified in a library setting. Unwilling to ask for help or resort to the catalog, it took him half an hour to find the sixty-volume first edition of _Flora of Serenno _in one of the ancient stacks. He took the one he thought was what he wanted, and then downloaded the electronic version of the latest revision of the series onto datapad in case he was wrong. The librarian eyed him when he signed for the book. While it was nearly nine-hundred years old and not strictly speaking in general circulation, it was Serenni manufacture and practically indestructible. She didn't try to stop him from taking the book to his room, which pleased him.

His senses were outstretched for any sign of distress from Qui-Gon, but he felt nothing particularly abnormal. Perhaps he was just being paranoid as the old memories of this place swarmed over him. He shouldn't hover over the boy, though indeed he rarely felt inclined to. Qui-Gon would be positively appalled at the thought of his Master mothering him, after all.

Upon returning to his room, he flipped carefully through the book, memorizing the necessary entries with brief concentration. The feel of actual pages under his fingers was pleasant. Sometimes Dooku had thought about starting a book collection, but it was a useless and whimsical desire and he knew it. He was stronger than his desires, and the image of himself reduced to hovering protectively over a Hutt's collection of baubles was...repulsive. He reached out and ran a hand over the stone wall running beside the bed he had been given.

Strange to think all this could be his. The book, the house, the world. He considered the possibility with dispassion.

Just then, the echo of Qui-Gon he felt in the Force took on a sudden and wholly new character. Startled past outrage for a few seconds, Dooku's jaw worked and he dropped the book he was reading. It slid off the bed and onto the floor. He was halfway to the door and reaching for his lightsaber before he forcibly calmed himself.

There was no mistaking the unconscious mental broadcast he was getting. And his control dropped into pure anger as he realized that Anare had spent the last few hours seducing his apprentice. _Successfully._

_Not a betrayal._ Dooku thought. _Not. Not. You know what she does to people. You know what she does to you._ He cursed all the tricks he'd picked up from her for making people do what he wanted. The boy honestly hadn't stood much of a chance. He ran himself through calming exercises he hadn't had to use since he was younger than Qui-Gon, wilfully ignoring what his apprentice was up to. He couldn't let himself get emotional about this. Emotion was her strength - it gave her power, while it just made him weak.

Unfortunately, ignoring this wouldn't make it go away. Dooku cursed mentally, remembering a thousand opportunities to talk to Qui-Gon, to get him a little more ready for this sort of tactic. They both would have hated it, but this was a thousand times worse. He should have realized that she wanted to hurt him, was willing to use Qui-Gon to get at him and didn't care about any consequences he could deal out. He should have forbidden the boy to go off with her, taking the political hit. This was just...just... She was only doing it to smash his composure, and he knew it, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better.

At least Qui-Gon was enjoying it. Sort of. He didn't_ like _that particular feeling he was picking up from his apprentice.

It seemed like an eternity before Qui-Gon walked in the door again. He looked perfectly ordered, at a level of careful presentation he never achieved except when he was trying to hide something. Dooku gave him a _look_, but couldn't bring himself to be satisfied at Qui-Gon's flinch.

"How was your talk with Anare?" he asked instead.

"Oh, ah, she showed me her lab and we talked about plants. She's... really something." Qui-Gon said. Amazingly enough he managed to meet Dooku's eyes.

"And doesn't she know it. She is di Serenn." Dooku's voice became a little sharp. "She is _also_ three times your age."

Qui-Gon blinked. "No way. She doesn't look...er."

Dooku saw the realization on Qui-Gon's face that his master knew perfectly well what had just gone on. "'Er' indeed. We'll talk about it. Later."

Qui-Gon dodged eye-contact. Only then did Dooku notice the book lying on the floor. He took the opportunity to pick it up and carefully put it away.

"...Master?" Qui-Gon asked, after a few moments.

"Yes, Qui-Gon?"

"What's a di Serenn?"

Dooku frowned, and answered carefully. "The di Serenn in their several Houses are the descendants of Vicereine Serenn, who led the first Alderaanian colonial government, and Maret, a chieftain of the Hydian people, in the male line. They comprise between a third to a half of this planet's population and a small percentage of the population on Tetarchus, the other inhabited planet in the system. They are traditionally leaders of the eight sectors of the ancient Hydian." .

"Are _you_ one?" the boy asked.

Dooku sighed. "No. I am a Jedi."

"But almost everyone here calls you Idis. I didn't know you had another name."

"I do not. It's- Indrea should not have said that." Dooku looked down.

"Are you related to him?"

Dooku gave him another look. "There's ten thousand people in the colony, and there's been negligable immigration for over a thousand years. I'm related to everyone, child. Can't you tell? But enough talk. Do you want to see more of Serenno? An interesting opportunity has come up, and I'd like to take a short trip."

"Oh? Where are we going?"

Dooku smiled faintly. "Down below."


	3. Dreaming Deep

III: Dreaming Deep

Qui-Gon

The atmospheric pressure became brutal as _Thornwing_ dropped off the continental shelf. As they lost altitude over a small sea, Dooku constantly adjusted the environmental controls, frowning in thought. Eventually, Qui-Gon saw lowlands rising out of the water through the haze, a great forest sloping gently up to low hills. In the distance, Qui-Gon could sort of see a possible settlement, but the air was so thick and clouded that it was hard to make anything out. He felt like his mind wasn't working quite right either, and he had to take shallow, panting breaths.

The green-and-gold foliage of the lowland forest was blackened in a huge area. They were low enough now that Qui-Gon could see charred pillars that were once trees. Near the edges of the enormous forest fire scar there was less damage, and some of the trees were still alive and growing new leaves. Dooku brought their courier down in that area, hovering since there was no unobstructed surface to land on. He made a few last adjustments to the autopilot before he headed to the ramp and let himself drop to the ground many meters below. Qui-Gon followed and then looked up as _Thornwing_ closed its hatch and flew off by itself.

"We may be a while," Dooku said softly, the deep thrum of his voice heavily distorted in the deep air. He turned and walked a hundred meters or so before coming to a scorched clearing that he examined and seemed to find satisfactory. Qui-Gon trailed him, before stopping dead as his intuition began to prickle.

Dooku turned and then his lightsaber suddenly jumped from his belt to his hand. The hum of the saber as it ignited was like a dull roar in Qui-Gon's head. The pale blue glow of the blade provided more light than the cloud-obscured sun and the feeling that Qui-Gon was underwater intensified. Dooku's arm pointed straight out and perpendicular from his body, but he was not anywhere near as vulnerable in his Makashi guard as an unexperienced combatant might assume. The point of his blade was the center of an invisible circle; to leave that circle was to leave the fight.

"It is a necessity, sometimes, to understand your physical limitations. Draw your sword. Now."

Qui-Gon obeyed. He'd nearly finished growing, and several months ago Dooku had finally allowed him to build his own lightsaber. It felt heavy now in his hand, though it sat more comfortably there than the training sabers he had used before. It seemed like a weird time for combat training, but Dooku was in a _mood._

With a_ snap-hiss,_ Qui-Gon's saber ignited in green fire. Pacing around Dooku, he tried to clear his head. He trusted the Force to give him the moment to attack. Dooku stood still, and his apparently unprotected back was tempting, but Qui-Gon knew better than to be lured in. His circle was nearly complete before he took a sudden step inwards. His first attack was to test Dooku's defenses, as he knew Dooku's riposte was the real danger. As soon as Dooku committed to deflecting the blow, Qui-Gon put all of his physical strength and no small amount of his strength in the Force into winning that critical lock.

Qui-Gon had trained many years against Dooku . He knew better than to watch the man's face. Any betrayal of Dooku's intent would materialize in his grip, in the movement of his blade, or in his footwork. For now, Dooku was still effortlessly keeping him at bay. Qui-Gon _had_ to get close. When he tried to step in once more, Dooku locked their blades in an awkward position. Qui-Gon was pushed back, until he had to drop his weapon or break his wrist. Even as he let go and stepped hurriedly back, his wrist ached sharply, though the pain was fleeting. Dooku did not push his advantage, instead lowering his own blue blade until it touched the ground. Qui-Gon called his lightsaber back to his hand in that reprieve.

"Again," Dooku said. He still held his blade low, so Qui-Gon struck high. In the space of a heartbeat, Dooku flicked his wrist to bring his blade up to guard and deflect. The riposte burned through the outer layer of Qui-Gon's robes before stopping. Qui-Gon knew it was a 'kill', but jumped back anyway.

Qui-Gon wasn't usually this bad when they sparred. Something was wrong with his reflexes. Something in the air, probably - it was thick and almost smothering. Dooku didn't seem bothered by whatever it was, though. Maybe it was all in Qui-Gon's head.

Dooku's low voice interrupted him. "Again."

The world seemed brighter with the dance of blades, and Qui-Gon thought the burned-yet-living trees were amused, too. He came in at Dooku again without any guard of his own, a completely foolish thing to do. It was foolish enough that Dooku wasn't expecting it, and by the time the point of the blue blade whirred towards Qui-Gon, Qui-Gon was able to block it. Dooku was less deadly with the edge of the blade, and Qui-Gon was now close enough to avoid the point. Here, Dooku's reach and precision advantage was less. He locked their blades, but Dooku kneed him in the chest and it was over again.

Qui-Gon picked himself up. He felt drugged, or worse. The trees were_ laughing _at him now. He could tell.

"Again," Dooku said. He looked like he might have wanted to say something else too, but he brought up his guard instead.

Qui-Gon obligingly whirled in at Dooku, trying to bypass his impossible outer defense again. His hands felt numb and clumsy, and they weren't doing what he wanted them to do.

Dooku gestured faster than Qui-Gon's blurred mind could comprehend, and he felt his master's power in the Force lash out, holding him still.

"Qui-Gon," Dooku said, the pressure distorting his voice into something nearly unrecognizable. "You nearly cut your own leg off. Focus." And then Qui-Gon felt a faint echo of pain. He looked down at his own green blade lancing out to just touch his thigh.

Dooku turned and walked away a few paces. The air closed around Qui-Gon again- no longer exhilarating. He was drowning in it, and he knew it, and he couldn't seem to make his mind work. He turned off his lightsaber and looked at the shallow burn on his leg. In Qui-Gon's fevered imagination there were butterflies swarming out of it, but he blinked and they sparkled away. The faded colors of the burnt-out forest were bleeding together again into glorious madness. He took shallow breaths, feeling the weight of the air in his lungs.

Dooku's voice cut through the fog blurring Qui-Gon's senses. "Again."

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth. His saber hissed into new life as he launched another futile assault on his master. Dooku easily deflected the waning force of his strikes, holding his ground. While Qui-Gon had grown, Dooku still had at least an inch of reach on him, and Qui-Gon couldn't get through that dangerous envelope. Dooku was far more comfortable in his height than Qui-Gon was in his awkward, betraying body. He couldn't even get his master in a saber lock. After a few very sloppy blows, Dooku took his feet out from under him with a leg sweep and easily kicked him away. Why wasn't his body working right?

The word 'narcosis' drifted through his head, but couldn't find an anchor. It wasn't poison; it was something in every breath he took. Qui-Gon tried to reach out to the Force to remove the strange giddiness. It worked for a moment, and his eyes cleared. Dooku watched him, his outline more solid now, less wavering and unreal.

"Again," Dooku said. His voice sounded stranger...like it was ever so slightly out of phase with itself.

Qui-Gon dived low this time, trying to cut Dooku's legs out from under him. It wouldn't work; it never did. Dooku brought the tip of his blade down to block and the blades leaped to meet each other. Qui-Gon's considerable forward momentum was blunted by the resistance of the blades against each other. His leverage was off, and the tip of Dooku's saber swept down the length of the blade towards the saber hilt. Qui-Gon jerked away, crashing to his knees, blocking another swipe. Their blades locked, and Qui-Gon's was forced towards his face. He quenched his own blade, rolling urgently out of the way as Dooku's lightsaber flashed down to where his face was a second ago, scoring the dirt. His skin felt bruised and clammy, and his lungs felt like they were filled with soft choking liquid. He forced himself to be perfectly still as Dooku deliberately passed the tip of his blade a hairsbreadth from his throat. And then Dooku stepped back three paces.

"Again." Dooku's voice was cold.

Qui-Gon's efforts weren't working. The sickness in the air was too strong for his power to counteract. Sweat was running down his face - and then he realized it was not sweat, but tears. Once more he thumbed his lightsaber on, green in the darkness - another hum like wings to match Dooku's blade-song. He was not equal, never equal - a mayflitter to his dragonbird. He raised his blade in guard. Let Dooku come to him this time.

Dooku just looked at him with that damnable half-smile - not even in a ready stance. Qui-Gon read contempt in it and felt an anger rising in him that he wasn't sure he understood.

_"Again."_

The word seemed to wrap around Qui-Gon's mind, drawing out his resentment and fear and other emotions that he rarely acknowledged. They sparked into a sudden, unthinking fury and he launched himself aerially, feeling the thick and choking air bear him up. His saber flashed towards Dooku's neck, but Dooku was swifter and moved to block. Yet Qui-Gon's momentum was too much, and he felt his master _give_ for a moment, saw through tears and madness the half step Dooku took away after the second blow. Qui-Gon landed at the base of one of the great scorched trees. He centered himself there, feeling the life and power pumped up from deep roots flow through him.

Dooku struck back. The tip of his blade reached out to score Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon was ready. He took into himself the steadiness of the tree, the life of the forest, and all his own anger and terror and frustration. Stepping inside his master's guard, he _attacked_. Their blades slammed together - and Qui-Gon won this lock. Yet Dooku effortlessly whirled away, and Qui-Gon snarled in frustration. This wasn't a dance. This was war. Qui-Gon struck again and again, faster than he thought he could - faster than rational thought or conscience could follow. Instinct and insight fueled him.

Dooku missed one block, and though his reflexes served to avoid the blow, Qui-Gon saw an odd hesitancy in his master's movements as Dooku flowed back into stance. And with that, Qui-Gon realized he was winning. The joy of that buoyed him up as he made even the madness in the air serve him, weaving imagination into a true future.

He reached for possibilities, seeking weakness. _There._ An opening.

Qui-Gon went for the kill. His lightsaber seared a line of green fire through the air, past his master's inner guard, towards his throat. He saw Dooku turn, saw his eyes widen slightly--

Then Dooku flicked his wrist inward, thumbing a control on his hilt. His lightsaber somehow flowed through Qui-Gon's own before solidifying again to deflect the blow. Qui-Gon felt a tearing pain in his scalp, and his neck jerked back as Dooku seized his braid and hurled him to the ground. He hit hard and flopped on his back.

Before his eyes, the point of Dooku's glowing blade swung down and halted in front of him. Behind it, his master stood like a statue -- unmoved and unmoving.

Finally, after what seemed like years, Dooku spoke. "Every man has his breaking point. Know this."

The words echoed through Qui-Gon's head, growing to a cacophony. His breaths became short and labored. The blue blade snapped off, and Dooku bent down over him. Qui-Gon felt a gentle touch on his forehead, and his vision faded to black.

When he awoke, Dooku was gone. Qui-Gon got to his feet. He didn't think much time had passed from when Dooku had compelled his slumber, but he couldn't tell for sure.

Qui-Gon's thoughts were even blurrier now, and it was hard to work around the strange euphoria that still had him in its grasp. He tried a partial meditative state, which helped a bit. Except then he started to remember.

He had really screwed up today, hadn't he. Dooku had taught him to always strike to kill with a lightsaber - nonlethal wounds were for other weapons. A blademaster like Dooku might be skilled enough to show mercy, but Qui-Gon wasn't at that level yet. If the lightsaber was out, you were there to kill. A corollary to that was that the lightsaber should never be used on the vast majority of missions. But here, he'd crossed the line from 'striking to kill' - Dooku was so much better than him that he could try his best and it would never be enough- and actually wanting to kill the man. He didn't remember when or why it had happened. He'd just...snapped.

How much of that had Dooku picked up?

_All of it,_ Qui-Gon thought glumly. _No doubt._

What had Dooku meant by breaking points? He couldn't think straight. He brought himself out and felt the giggling fog settle in on him again. He looked around - and saw a pack set on the ground, with a small knife on top of it. Scored in the dirt by a lightsaber blade was a large arrow pointing to where the trees were green and healthy. Absently, Qui-Gon reached for his own lightsaber. It was missing.

Qui-Gon looked at the arrow and looked in the direction the arrow was pointed. Then he looked back down at the arrow. Finally, he looked skywards and allowed himself to indulge in some badly needed sarcasm. "Oh, _that's_ helpful, Master!"

He felt a little better then. Rubbing his head, he looked in the pack - it was nearly empty, but contained a day's worth of food rations, most of his survival equipment, and lots and lots of water. Not nearly the complete set, though. There was also a breather there, hand-labeled by Dooku. 'Helium mix. 4 hours', the label read. Qui-Gon frowned and put it back for now. He had the feeling that that was for emergency use and he really didn't know what he was up against yet.

Nothing for it, then. Qui-Gon got his bearings, enough to navigate even with the mind fog. He had been the top of his class in survival. And then he...followed the arrow.

Oddly enough, his connection to the Force seemed increased by the fuzziness of his conscious thought. Qui-Gon submersed himself in it and let its currents flow through him, letting it guide his steps when his physical senses failed him. He'd hit a trail several hundred meters in, going the direction he wanted, and was making excellent time. He was a Jedi, after all. He could faintly sense Dooku far ahead and still moving. The man's shielding had been very fragile ever since they arrived, and Qui-Gon worried about that in the brief moments he was lucid enough. Most of the time, Qui-Gon couldn't sense Dooku across the room if he didn't want to be noticed.

Qui-Gon kept going into the early evening. He couldn't see that well with his light, but he couldn't see that well anyway, Ultimately, he relied on the Force.. It wouldn't fail him.

It never did.

It was about two hours after sunset when Qui-Gon saw another light ahead along the trail. Squinting, he slowed. He'd gained some altitude, and he felt a little better, but trying to think about what to do besides 'follow Dooku' was too much work. He didn't feel like he could be effectively stealthy in this state of mind. So he walked up and a little off the trail to find a campsite. There was a small tent, and a man staring at him with knife drawn,holding an emergency comlink.

"Who the hell are you?" the man demanded in a low voice.

Qui-Gon blinked at him and grinned a little. "Hi," he said, and sat down.

Silence, as he was looked over. "You- you're not from around here. Were you in a crash?" The man stood up and walked carefully over. He sounded a little puzzled, but it was hard to tell due to the distortion. "You must be really narced," he judged finally.

Qui-Gon thought about that and nodded.

The Serenni man grimaced. "Stay there." Rummaging in a pack, he pointed to himself. "I'm Isk." Then he spoke slowly. "What's...your...name."

"Jedi apprentice Qui-Gon Jinn," Qui-Gon rattled off automatically. Isk's face blurred as Qui-Gon started to lose track of the focus and connection to the Force that had helped him on the trail and against Dooku, but he couldn't bring himself to care right now. He was deliriously happy all of a sudden. Everything seemed to make sense, and then it all shattered and slipped out of his grasp like a greased serpent.

"You're-- are you a Jedi? What are you doing here?"

Qui-Gon was aware someone was talking to him, but it wasn't important right now. Isk took Qui-Gon's pack off and looked through it, finally discovering the breath mask and fitting it over Qui-Gon's head.

One breath, two. Then Qui-Gon was coldly sober again. He looked down and around, seeing another scorched arrow in the campsite-clearing. He pointed to it. "How long ago was Dooku here?" His voice came out a combination of squeaky and muffled by the mask.

Isk grinned as Qui-Gon's voice chirped, but wrinkled his brows as Qui-Gon mentioned his master. "_Dooku? _He's here? That was him?" He pointed at the arrow. "I heard a hum for a few seconds and saw a flash of light and when I turned around those burns were there but nobody was around. This was a bit before sunset. My day's been weird like that. Was that a lightsaber? Do you have one?"

"Yes...um...no. I don't have mine with me right now. Not a great weapon to use when your head's not working right," Qui-Gon said. He was starting to ache all of a sudden, and he grimaced. "Um, yes, I'm a Jedi. I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing here. I'm not even sure exactly what my Master is doing here. As usual, he hasn't told me. And my day has...also been weird." Though it had also been educational in some ways.

Qui-Gon fiddled with his tunic. It was kind of foul now and stuck to him unpleasantly. He was sweating a lot, but it seemed to stick to him instead of cooling him down. He'd gone through much of his water, and was glad he'd remembered to drink. Loosening his belt, he pulled his tabard and tunic over his head It was too hot for it anyway, and he thought he might have been running earlier. It worried him that he wasn't quite sure. Plus, there were a few lightsaber burns on them and that wasn't something he felt like explaining right now. Dooku had really done a number on him. _Ow_. Lesson learned, he guessed. The perfect solution to the problem Dooku had set before him would have been to refuse to fight. Had Dooku actually told him to attack?

_No. _He'd assumed it. Dooku knew exactly what buttons to push to make Qui-Gon throw himself into the fray again and again, in a fight he couldn't win under normal circumstances, let alone these. Carefully artificial openings, the illusion of weakness... and he'd jumped upon it. The blocking move at the end had probably been one of Dooku's Makashi saber-flicker tricks that he'd been too out of it to recognize. Now that he was lucid, he understood that Dooku had been in control the whole time. Defending himself from his apprentice's blows, refraining from killing his apprentice, and, most importantly, stopping Qui-Gon from killing himself accidentally.

Qui-Gon was distracted from his musings by Isk looking up and staring at him. "Eater of Worlds! What happened to you?"

Qui-Gon looked down at his body and saw for the first time the impressive pattern of bruises where the undertunic revealed his arms, dark purplish-blue. He was sure there were more underneath. Usually, he was treated with topical bacta before they got this bad. "Oh, uh..."

"You're so narced you've probably been running into trees," Isk said. "Or something ran into you, but there aren't supposed to be any big predators around here."

_The most dangerous predator on the planet was in your camp a few hours ago_, Qui-Gon thought. "Something like that. It's all kind of fuzzy. I'm fine. It doesn't hurt." He frowned. "Well, it didn't hurt." Something about the air had taken his pain and his reason away. Oh. _Nitrogen narcosis_. That was what he had tried to remember during the fight. The pair of them had done exotic atmosphere training a long time ago. It'd boiled down to 'wear your breath mask and bring the correct canister'. He remembered now that Dooku had made an amused noise and had said 'What if you don't have a breath mask?' He'd said something derogatory about teaching standards later.

"I have bacta patches to spare. Let me take a look."

"Use mine," Qui-Gon said. "They're military-grade."

Isk nodded. Fishing through Qui-Gon's pack, he frowned as he took out a multitool. "What's this?"

"Logic probe, laser-cutter...doubles as a firestarter..."

Isk looked a little pale as he looked over Qui-Gon again, but he nodded. Finally he found the bacta patches and started to apply them.

Qui-Gon sat still and let him. It was kind of nice, actually. Isk was non-threatening, genuinely concerned, and didn't seem to be interested in screwing with his head for fun. Unlike, say, _everyone else on the planet_, including Dooku. Qui-Gon felt the patches start to release onto his bruises, tingling oddly as they worked towards healing them. One went on his face. Lying back on the ground, he focused on breathing.

A thought struck him, and he frowned up at Isk. "And why aren't you...narced?"

"We're not designed that way here. Some people have problems at sea level, but that's rare. This is our planet, and we're bred to live here. I probably couldn't handle the thin air where you're from. I've heard it's awful. It's bad enough up where the old colony is."

"I'm having a little trouble handling this," Qui-Gon said. "Er, obviously."

"More than a little. You really shouldn't be out here," Isk said . He looked a little worried. "Stay with me, okay? Do you want me to call for help? I'd fail the Run again, but that's not important."

"I...think I'll be fine," Qui-Gon said. "Master Dooku wouldn't put me in this situation if he didn't think I could handle it, and he's almost always right about that sort of thing." He rubbed his head. "Master wants me to follow him on foot. So it's probably a good idea."

Isk looked dubious.

"I trust him," Qui-Gon said. "Really. I do."

"Okay," Isk said. He fidgeted a little. "You can have my tent tonight, if you want."

"That won't be necessary. I'm used to sleeping in the rough. There's no way I'm getting any real sleep down here, so I'll be meditating anyway. Shake me when it's time to go? And, uh, I think it's best to save the mask for an emergency in case I really need it."

"I guess that works," Isk said.

Qui-Gon turned off the feed and curled it back into his pack. The air hit him again like a physical thing, dragging his consciousness away. He closed his eyes and focused on his heartbeat until the rest of the world was drowned out.

It was a little past dawn when Isk shook him awake. There was a brief moment of confusion when Qui-Gon thought the other man was Dooku, but the differences were enough that he realized his mistake before he said anything stupid. Isk was shorter, younger, weirdly-accented, and a lot less self-possessed. At breakfast, they compared rations, and decided Isk's were tastier.

On the trail, Qui-Gon was surprised at how slow Isk was. The other man took frequent breaks and got adorably paranoid whenever Qui-Gon slipped out of his sight. Qui-Gon could have gone faster, even with his mind strange, even with the wound in his leg and the stifling weight of the air. However, he liked the company. He took the time to make the acquaintance of several nice trees and a bird-insect-something that he managed to tempt onto his hand with the Jedi rations. It obviously liked them more than he did, and Isk had extra, so he left a meal's worth behind.

Qui-Gon was somewhat aware that they were climbing up a valley, but the river took him by surprise. He hadn't heard the sound of water over the other sounds in his head. Most of those were probably hallucinations, but Qui-Gon wasn't being judgemental about that sort of thing right now. The river was about seven or eight meters wide and fairly fast flowing. Downstream, on the other side, there was a mud smear on the bank.

"Someone fell in." Isk said, catching up. There was a difficult but passable crossing over boulders in the stream. "I think it might be time to get the mask out. I don't know how well you can swim."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and leapt, feeling the world fall away beneath him. He landed in a crouch on the opposite bank and glanced back. His lank and sweaty hair hung over his face, and he grinned widely. Isk's jaw dropped, but he snapped it shut and started picking his own way across.

Qui-Gon found the third arrow on the trail shortly thereafter. He looked at it blankly for a while, until he felt Isk's hand on his shoulder. Isk made sure he was okay, looked around, and then knelt at the side of the trail. He drew a knife similar to the one Qui-Gon had recieved and reached for a low-growing shrub . He cut a leaf off and stood up.

"What'd you do that for?" Qui-Gon asked, offended on behalf of the plant. The poor thing had been cruelly mistreated on the side facing the trail. Many leaves had been cut off, and there were old scars where it looked like whole branches might have been pruned. He looked at a flower and decided the plant was a girl.

"Have to bring in three leaves for the Run, from three particular plants," Isk said. "It's kind of silly, but it's traditional, and I need to do it to get my voting shares. If I fail it a third time, it's going to be just embarassing. Even if I have you as an excuse"

Qui-Gon laid a hand on the little shrub and tried to speed her healing. It had lost a lot of leaves these past few days. He disapproved. The knife in Isk's hand then caught his eye and he poked at it curiously, but Isk yanked it away, sheathed it, and headed up the trail. He was worrying, Qui-Gon sensed, as he considered the injured plant again. Isk seemed to do that a lot.

The series of steep switchbacks out of the valley worried Isk too, but Qui-Gon handled them with ease. About halfway up, the cloud over his mind swiftly faded. This was so unexpected that Qui-Gon actually jumped down a level to see if it came back, and it did. Then he hopped back up and it left again.

"Careful!" Isk yelled, from a few turns below.

"I'm fine!" Qui-Gon yelled back. He reached for a handhold to steady himself and focused, drawing the Force to himself. With a gesture, he slowly levitated Isk up the broad incline. He heard a yelp and saw the petrified look on Isk's face as he stared down at nothing at all below him. Qui-Gon waved his hand again, pulling Isk in and finally releasing him when they were next to each other.

"Brain's working again." Qui-Gon informed him.

"That's...nice." Isk said faintly, before rallying. "Can you_ warn _me before you do something like that?"

"You looked like you were having a bit of trouble." Qui-Gon said defensively.

"I know I'm not in great shape. I realize that you could probably go faster while carrying me." Isk scowled a little. "But you don't have to point that out."

Qui-Gon looked down. His master often said that he needed to be less...blunt when dealing with outsiders.

"I can take your pack if you want," he offered, instead. "Sorry if I offended you. I wanted to see if my focus was really back or if I was just hallucinating again."

"You mean you could have dropped me!" Isk choked, a little red-faced.

"I wouldn't drop you." Qui-Gon smiled.

Isk sighed, shrugged his pack off and handed it over. "Maybe it will slow you down." He looked at Qui-Gon then, eyes narrow. "You're crazy. Has anyone told you that?"

"Yeah."

Isk stared at him before finally breaking into a little grin. "Just a little further," he said, "and then we get to the flat and we can break for midday meal." Isk rubbed the back of his neck, stretched, and headed up the trail.

Lunch was more of Isk's rations. The forested valley gave way to sparser trees and scrub with meadows interspersed. The trail was well-worn, and the place where they stopped seemed to have been used for this sort of thing before. Isk hunted through the grass before making a pleased noise and cutting another specimen. Qui-Gon helped this plant out a little too, then rummaged through their packs for food and water. They ate quietly for a bit, but Isk was obviously very curious. And to be honest, Qui-Gon had questions of his own.

"So what are you doing here, anyway?" Isk asked. "You and your, um, Master. I thought you Jedi spent all your time saving the universe or something. No time for family or anything like that."

"Well...we aren't supposed to be in touch with our biological families. I don't even remember mine. I guess Master Dooku does. Strictly speaking, we really shouldn't be here. I don't know what he's trying to accomplish"

Isk chewed some more before blurting out, "Did he meet the Contessa? How did _that_ go?"

"Uh." Qui-Gon thought back. "As far as I can remember, she accused him of killing somebody and he called her a whore. What's the _story_ there, anyway? Nobody will tell me and I'm almost afraid to ask."

"Oh. Oh dear." Isk smirked. "Well, I don't know if I know the whole thing, because it's not something you talk about when there's any of her people around. And it was a long time ago. Before I was born, even."

"I _knew_ there was a story," Qui-Gon said darkly.

"I shouldn't really share," Isk said. "You're not one of us." He clearly wanted to, though.

"_Tell_," the Jedi said, losing his patience. Maybe there was even a wee bit of compulsion in there. Dooku would be annoyed at him, but Dooku should have bloody well told him what was going on in the first place.

"Fine, fine, fine." Isk grinned. "This is all a little semi-mythical, you understand. There's all sorts of Idis stories, and they really can't all be true. Anyway. Once upon a time there was a little boy named Idis. Idis was a smart little boy. Precocious, rebellious."

"I can imagine..." Qui-Gon said.

"By the time he was walking he was getting into all sorts of trouble. He was quiet, but he got everywhere. He didn't like being left alone. He always ended up somewhere he wasn't supposed to be, watching people. The Contessa couldn't get away from him. I suppose that was when she started to hate him. His sister had been no trouble at all, you see--"

"Wait." Qui-Gon said slowly, as pieces finally came together and an unpleasant realization began to dawn. "She's his_ mother_?"

Isk gave him an odd look. "Well, yes. Sort of."

"Sort of? How can you sort of be a mother? Was he ...adopted or something?" Qui-Gon scrambled to recall how things worked outside the Order. His initiate clan had had a head that acted like a mother-surrogate, and Dooku was sort of like a father, maybe, but his knowledge of real families was a little thin. He knew that in most common species the females bore young, and pair-bonding sometimes occurred. He'd heard more reminders that Jedi didn't have families than actual information about them.

As for the Contessa... she had made herself desirable, and, well, he'd desired her. He'd pleased her, and she was certainly more experienced than he. --He remembered the sharp feeling of triumph he'd felt from her after, the innocent purr as she wondered if his master might not be missing him. She'd returned to her lab work as he'd left, as if nothing had happened. She'd taken what she wanted from him. A Jedi was a tool of the Force, but nobody liked being _used_.

"No, she, er, designed him and grew him in her lab. Her father wanted her to marry Indrea, and she was having none of that. There's a sort of...responsibility to bear children, here, but she wanted children her way. She's very stubborn, and very, very clever, and does not like being crossed in anything. And she remembers grudges forever."

Qui-Gon winced, reaching out with the Force to discern if Isk was lying. This was bad. He didn't want to be a weapon in this private war. Pawns got sacrificed, and the perfectionist drive in Dooku was incredibly deep-rooted. Once he had accepted a task or a challenge, he did_ not _back down. He suspected Anare was much the same in her own way. "We, um, met. Yeah. She gave me a tour of the lab. Showed me what she's working on these days." He tried to imagine his master growing somewhere in there, but all his mind produced was an image of a six-inch-tall Dooku in a jar with a murderous expression on his face.

"She's really good. Some of her projects have been hugely profitable."

Qui-Gon eyed him. "That can't be the whole story. Go on." This was important. More precisely, this was 'how dead was he going to be when he caught up to Dooku?' important.

"Well, he didn't talk at all until he was past two. The Contessa was trying to get him out of her hair - she had a meeting with one of her folk. She promised him she'd be back to see him in the evening. And it's said that his first words were 'Don't lie to me.' as he gave her a tiny version of one of her stares and then toddled off. Whether or not that's the case, he still didn't talk much, but he seemed to pick up on things really fast. There were rumors he could read minds - he always seemed to know what was going on. She couldn't handle him. He'd show up at her cohort meetings and lurk invisibly, chirping up at the worst possible times to screw up her plans. Her father the Execsar thought it served her right for being difficult herself as a child, but Idis was worse. He wasn't rude to anyone else - well, he didn't like her lovers, but other than that it's said he was perfectly polite."

"Her lovers?" Qui-Gon asked cautiously.

"She had a lot of them and he really didn't like that."

Qui-Gon twitched. If he was lucky, Dooku would kill him quickly.

"Most of her political opponents thought the situation was incredibly amusing. It was hard to take her seriously when her toddler was running rings around her. And when she started trying to terrify him into submission, which sort of worked for a while, she still couldn't win in everyone's eyes. He adapted to that though, and near the end he was really sharp and very good at fighting back. The memory of Idis completely stunted her ambitions for at least half a decade after he left."

"What happened when he left?"

"Well, I mean, they only test here every four - er- four of our years, anyway. I think yours are close. They take somebody about every forty or fifty years, I've heard."

"That'd be well above average considering your population." _Probably because you're so inbred_, Qui-Gon carefully didn't say.

"Really? Hmm. Well, Idis is the first one who's ever been trained as a real Jedi apprentice, I think. He was, well, 'born', just after the last time the Jedi came, so he had four and a half years to run around. The Contessa did her own test on him when he was nearly four, but they refused to bring him in until they had an official test done."

"I've heard he's nearly off the charts, yeah. I can see why they'd ignore someone's homebrew test if it came in that high."

"The Jedi came. There was all sorts of chatter when they found him. They said they were taking him straight to the main Temple, and not the regional training facility where they usually bring people from this sector. Idis kept asking why he was going away. And the Contessa said he didn't belong here, that he never had, and they rather had it out."

"So?" Qui-Gon asked, leaning forward.

"So she stripped his name publicly." Isk said. "Nobody's sure if she was quite allowed to do that, but she did anyway. She said he was dead to her, and she took back the name she had given him. The Jedi gave him another one. But Indrea's folk still call him Idis, and her folk don't talk about him at all."

"What side are you on?" Qui-Gon asked.

Isk shrugged. "Indrea's dull, and the Contessa is just scary. I'd rather not have either, to be honest. Most of us are hoping the Execsar hangs on at least another few years. But Indrea's been helping Indagren and he knows more about what the job means, you know?"

"He's dying." Qui-Gon said. "Your Execsar. I think that's why we came."

"That's bad," Isk said. He didn't seem too surprised though. "That's really bad. We need to get back."


	4. Wildburn Cascade

IV: Wildburn Cascade

Qui-Gon

Isk walked faster without his pack, and Qui-Gon also helped him out a little with the Force so they made better time. The land was flatter here, but there was less shade to walk under. The sun wasn't exactly visible through the haze cover, but it was still very bright, much brighter than it had been the day before. Qui-Gon got a better grasp on how his vision and hearing were being affected by the environment as they walked and took some time to examine the planet. The horizon was strangely bent, and the sky was a different color here than it was even up at the great house. There it had been deep turquoise, while here it was blueish-green-white. There was some wind, but it was very slow. Hard to walk against, though, since the they were deep under the absent ocean and the air seemed like a filmy insubstantial liquid.

They passed the first group of people an hour after lunch. Two girls and a boy were resting in the grass and stared openly at Qui-Gon, but didn't say anything. After that, they started catching up to people walking along. All seemed about Qui-Gon's age or slightly younger and were carrying packs that were similar to the one Isk had had. Questions like "Who's he?" were common, and Isk handled them as gracefully as he could. Qui-Gon was aware he looked a mess and remembered Dooku's lessons about presentation guiltily. He felt like a sweaty, smelly Coruscanti aberration. Maybe they'd put him in an exhibit. The fact that the local accent was nearly impenetrable down here when people were talking at the same time just made him a little more paranoid since Qui-Gon could only pick out about half the curious questions and Isk's answers.

Just before the natural terrain turned into something decidedly unnatural, Isk found his third plant sample. Qui-Gon helped him root around in the dirt, and tried to convince him to take a whole seedling instead. Isk just rolled his eyes, and Qui-Gon felt a like a stupid foreigner. That didn't stop him from taking a plant of that species for himself, though. He had several already transplanted into a cannabalized rations tray. He wasn't sure if he could keep them alive in the hostile environment of his room back home, but he tried to have a living memento of every mission growing in there. His Temple room was more like a garden or a greenhouse, with enormous lights and planters covering every available surface. It was heavily automated, so the plants would live even if he was a long time away. Dooku had helped him set it up, mostly as a lesson in dealing with Customs. Coruscant Biological Control _hated_ him now.

Qui-Gon stored the samples in one of the packs before walking up to the boundary and stopping. The small rise he was on was cut away at a forty-five degree angle down to farmland of some sort, a perfectly flat orchard that stretched from horizon to horizon. The green foliage there contrasted with the more golden hue of most of the plants he had seen. He stared out at the rows of perfectly groomed trees, blinking as he noticed pale, white balloon-like creatures with trailing tendrils floating purposefully over the rows. In the distance, the rows parted around a spiky pyramidal structure that didn't look anything like the colonial building he had been staying in earlier. It wasn't city-sized, but it was pretty big. There were stone steps leading down to the orchard, and a great avenue between them and the pyramid.

"Is that where we're going?" he asked.

"Yes," Isk said. Qui-Gon reached out in the Force for Dooku, but his Master's shielding was back to its usual impenetrable state. Dooku was alive and probably on the same planet, and that was about all he could tell.

"Huh," he said, and headed down the stairs.

It was a road more than a path, though there were no vehicles on it, only people walking in the same direction. This road was well paved in jagged-patterned stone. Glancing from side to side, Qui-Gon looked between the rows of trees, only faintly curving in the far distance. They were almost like an army of statues.

The ghostly caretakers seemed to be following him, he noticed after a while. At least there were a lot more of them hovering in the area around him. Isk seemed nervous about that, but they didn't bother Qui-Gon. There was no malice there. He noticed the other Serenni on the trail were keeping a good distance now, too.

"Not that far now," Isk said. "See?" Squinting, Qui-Gon could make out a few vehicles converging on the tower-thing. Isk pointed out a phalanx of great bird-creatures that also headed that way with a wistful look on his face.

It was longer than 'not that far', and Isk was flagging by the time they reached the great stone-paved clearing around the structure. Qui-Gon picked out their _Thornwing_ easily from the local craft and walked over.

Isk followed. "Is that your ship?" he asked.

"It's not ours, but Master Dooku is first response and one of the order's heavy hitters, so we have use of it."

"Is that him?" Isk asked. Qui-Gon squinted and made out a figure cloaked in light grey. Isk's eyes were a lot better down here. "Probably." he said. Suddenly, getting back to the ship didn't seem so important. Maybe he could spend a few more days wandering out in the orchards...

Of course, then Dooku would probably leave him behind. Heh.

"I'd like to talk to him," Isk said, a tight and unhappy look on his face.

"Okay..." Qui-Gon said. He squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and strode over.

Qui-Gon had never seen Dooku in that exact outfit before. This one mixed the pale grey of his most formal undertunic with the dark brown tabard of his work clothes. His master was also wearing his apprentice's lightsaber behind his own. Sudden resentment welled up in Qui-Gon at that, but he quashed it.

"Qui-Gon," Dooku finally said. in acknowledgement. The accent of that dark voice was no longer anything close to Coruscant standard, but rather the blurred and melodic Serenni dialect. He'd seen Dooku switch accents shamelessly before, but never with _him_. It was alarming, and Qui-Gon was a little shaken by it.

"Master Dooku," Isk said, from behind Qui-Gon. Dooku turned to look at him.

"'Dooku' is sufficient. And you are?"

"Isk- Iskan Tera."

"Iskan." Dooku looked him over slowly. "Is there something you need?"

Isk swallowed, but stared at Dooku "You left him alone down there, with his mind crazy."

"I did," Dooku said neutrally. Qui-Gon winced. Criticizing a Master's training methods to their face was Not Done in the Temple, but Isk couldn't know that. Still, Qui-Gon badly wanted to muzzle him. He didn't need to be in any more trouble.

Isk scowled and fished in a pocket. Qui-Gon could sense that the kid was intimidated but angry. Dooku was giving him the full 'why are you wasting my time, insignificant mortal' look, but Isk forged onwards. "You left him narced to the gills down here. _With a lighter_." Isk held Qui-Gon's multitool - so that's where it'd gone!- out, pointing it at Dooku.

"...oh." Dooku said.

"Right. _Pure_ di Serenn." Isk crossed his arms. "Too long in the thin air. What the hell were you thinking, bringing fire down to the deep lands?"

"They're in the standard kit." Dooku said. He sounded almost tired, but perhaps...apologetic? "I was aware of the issue. One of the reasons I confiscated his lightsaber and several other items. I did not recall that there was one built into the multitool." He held out a hand to receive it.

Isk grudgingly handed it over. "Do you know how many people were out there today?"

Dooku nodded slowly. "One hundred and twenty six, including myself and my apprentice. But I'm not, you know."

"Not what?"

"Not di Serenn."

Isk gave him a look. "You're wearing grey."

Dooku half-smiled. "Well, true enough." He looked up. "Qui-Gon, please get changed. You're filthy. Keep the hatch closed as much as possible and don't fool with the atmospheric controls. The inside of the ship isn't designed for such an oxidizing environment and I've jury-rigged a temporary solution."

"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said, He wanted to hear the rest of the conversation Isk was having with Dooku, but orders were orders.

"Oh, and Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon looked back.

"This...is yours." Dooku held out Qui-Gon's saber on his outstretched palm. Qui-Gon smiled a little and summoned it gently to his hand. He climbed into the ship as Dooku turned back to Isk, talking in a low voice.

It was nice to be clean. It was even nicer to get clean clothes on. His 'dress robes' were more or less indistinguishable from his work robes, except he didn't wear them in the field and they didn't have quite the variety of interesting stains and tears. Dooku had noted once that Qui-Gon seemed to attract filth, though it wasn't clear in context whether he had been talking about grime or people.

Dooku ducked in after a few minutes, settling on the couch. Qui-Gon fidgeted. For once, he had no outstanding assignments, but he'd never get away with slipping out to talk to Isk or just get away from the inevitable Talk he was dreading. Dooku seemed to be distracted and was not actually paying much attention to him. Qui-Gon tried to sneak into the sleeping quarters to avoid the inevitable dissection of everything he'd done wrong over the past two days, but Dooku glanced up as he stood to leave.

Here it comes. Qui-Gon thought grimly and braced himself.

"Qui-Gon. Linear coefficient of expansion for platinum."

_Wha...?_ "Uh. Small?" Qui-Gon guessed, frantically trying to remember his physics. Thermal expansion was definitely not something he had been expecting Dooku to grill him on.

"That's what I recall. Look it up for me, please?"

Qui-Gon blinked. Dooku's memory, while not perfect, was so close to it that less organized beings usually could not hope to catch him out. Between this and...whatever Isk was on about, he was starting have a bad feeling about his Master's current state of mind. He looked up the information on a datapad and handed it over. Dooku scanned it with the slightly glazed look that he got whenever he did math or accounting in his head. His apprentice sat down beside him.

"What would have happened if I'd tried to start a fire?" Qui-Gon asked.

Dooku looked up and smiled bitterly. "Ah. You'd have sparked a wildburn, no doubt. The life here is surprisingly resistant to that sort of thing even with the high partial pressure of oxygen, so it would have eventually burned out. Eventually. In this atmosphere, however, _humans_ are very flammable. Chances are you would have died, Iskan would have died, and, depending on the prevailing winds, you could have taken out a hundred or more youths and a good part of the gardens."

"But...you were leaving marks with your saber." Qui-Gon said.

"Not quite the same. And I know how to...deal with that sort of thing. Something I need to teach you."

Qui-Gon hesitated, then asked the next question. "And what would you have done, if I had died?"

"I would have accepted the consequences of my actions," Dooku said. He sighed. "I am...glad...that that did not come to pass."

Another Dooku non-answer. His master looked troubled, so Qui-Gon let the matter drop. The silence that settled over the pair was not a happy one.

"You should return Iskan's pack," Dooku said. "He does need the leaves he gathered." Qui-Gon noticed for the first time that there was another set of three leaves on the table by Dooku.

"Oh," Qui-Gon said. "Right." He'd gotten used to lugging both around. "Do you know where he is?"

"Yes. It's about time." Dooku unfolded to his feet. "Initiation and election will take place this evening, as soon as the sun touches the horizon. He glanced at Qui-Gon. "Come along, then."

The giant fortress-like structure was as odd as it looked from afar. The main building flared out from a relatively small base and then tapered to a curved horn-like peak. It was made of some dark material. Strands of that unknown substance arced out like a web between the flare and the ground, giving the whole structure a pyramidal outline. As Qui-Gon came closer he saw that the walls also seemed fibrous, though stone and synthetics were interworked for the door. A shadow passed over their heads, and Qui-Gon got a closer look at one of the bird-things he'd seen before. Its wingspan must have been ten meters, and he thought there might be a rider on it. Its feathers were a dark brown, but the head was bald and black, and there was a dark yellow ruff around its neck that faded to an earthy brown on the chest. Qui-Gon lost sight of it as it alighted on the ledge above. He glanced over to Dooku to see that his master had been watching it too.

"Immensely impractical." Dooku said. He shook his head and entered the woven passageway into the structure's heart.

The tall corridor branched to arc around the core of the building, branching again vertically to give access to other levels. Dooku went up, and they came to a wide room with an arched series of windows on one wall. The obscured sun was half-visible through, slowly slipping down. The room was full of people, and he thought some of them might be ones he'd passed on the trail. Most looked a little nervous. A few were sitting on the floor, clearly tired from the long walk. Qui-Gon smiled as he picked out his friend Isk, who brightened when their eyes met and hurried over.

Isk was in deep brown robes, as were most of the others. Some had pale grey accents striping the sleeves, a few had more, and one boy wore about half grey. Qui-Gon mentally compared the colors Dooku and the others were wearing, and came to the conclusion that they were pretty much exactly the same. Which was probably not coincidental, but damned if he knew what it meant. Was it a rank thing? Dooku was hardly wearing any brown. Why would he have had the pieces of this outfit ready to be put together for years?

They joined the group. Dooku stood around, looking serene and unapproachable. Qui-Gon, in contrast, stood around and looked awkward, though, to be fair, it seemed a lot of people were standing around and looking awkward. Isk was very good at it and also seemed to want to keep Qui-Gon between himself and Dooku. Qui-Gon handed the boy his leaves, but Isk asked him to keep the pack so he wouldn't stand out. Of course, now Qui-Gon stood out, but he supposed that the theory was that he was going to stand out whatever he did. He had his own pack too, but he was starting to think his confused plan was a little ambitious now. He was back to having little to no idea about what was actually going on.

A few latecomers trickled in before the sun was completely framed in the windows, deep wine-red. "It's time." someone said, and the door opened. Like the entrance to the structure, the first ten meters of the revealed passage were loosely woven strands like a shrikespider's web. Through them Qui-Gon could see the room they entered was in the flared upper levels of the building. It was an indoor arena, and full of people in the sloping stands and three suspended levels. Looking up at the ceiling, Qui-Gon saw one of the floating creatures from before nestled in the exposed weavework. High windows let the last of the day's light in, though the ceiling glowed with a soft gold hue.

The whole damn colony had to be there, seated in the various sections. The center of the amphitheater was small compared to the extent of the stands, and the seats around it were empty. About twenty people were standing in the center, surrounding a wide stone block. There was also a great chair, similar to the one he'd seen at breakfast the day before but on a larger scale. Draped over it was a woman dressed entirely in pale grey.

As they group of initiates walked closer to the central stage, Qui-Gon realized the Contessa was the woman in the throne. He also picked out Indrea among those standing near the throne. Most of those standing were wearing some amount of grey, though three of them were in all brown. He thought one tall young woman there might be Astel, but he wasn't sure.

Their group was flowing steadily into the center of the arena. Qui-Gon stepped out of the pack and grabbed one of the empty seats instead, indulging in a little cultural anthropology.

There was a round stone block in the center of the arena floor with a shallow and wide depression in its flat top. A wrinkled old woman in grey and brown stood beside the altar as the incoming men and women filed by, each leaving their three leaves within it. Dooku wa among them. fter they did so, they went to take their seats in the first few empty rows. Isk grabbed the seat beside Qui-Gon after he had finished, and Qui-Gon smiled at him

After all had left their offering, the old woman stepped back to the edge of a white circle inscribed in the stone, maybe three meters away. Blue flame erupted from the block, reaching skywards. There was some initial smoke as the leaves were incinerated, but the fire burned cleanly after that.

It was only then that Qui-Gon realized Dooku was still standing and staring at Anare on her throne with a challenge in his eyes.

The Contessa sighed, rose to her feet, and strode across the floor to Qui-Gon's master.

"Dooku." Anare said, in a patient 'talking-to-small-children' tone. Her voice carried easily - either the acoustics in the room were really something, or she was amplified. "You don't have a cohort. This circle for cohort leaders."

"Yes he does." Qui-Gon called out, coming to his feet. Both of them turned slowly to stare at him.

Dooku smiled tightly, but Qui-Gon could tell that his master was not entirely pleased at his interference. "Contessa," he said. "I have a right to be here."

"_Vicereine_." Anare corrected sharply. "My father is dead, and I claim the title he never dared to." She looked back at Qui-Gon, raking him with a knowing look. "Your little boy doesn't count as a cohortman." Qui-Gon felt himself blush, but suppressed it quickly. "He's not Serenni. And really, neither are you."

Qui-Gon gave her a bright smile. "No? So how is this supposed to go?" He couldn't quite make out the faces of the audience at this distance. It was easier to pretend he only had an audience of two. Both Dooku and his mother were terrifying creatures in their own right, but Qui-Gon didn't feel like letting either of them intimidate him tonight.

"I beg your pardon?" Anare asked, startled.

"It looks like I'm not dressed for this, but..." Qui-Gon nodded at the still-burning flame. "Walk the trail, pick the leaves, and put them in the fire. Didn't see anything else ceremonial, but I might have missed something."

"That's the...essence, yes." Dooku said. He seemed to be letting Qui-Gon run with this, which Qui-Gon appreciated.

"Do they have to be dead leaves?" Qui-Gon asked.

Dooku raised an eyebrow and looked back at the age-withered woman who had overseen the ceremony. She was walking over.

"Because that seems rather a waste." Qui-Gon bulled onwards. "I brought seedlings instead." He retrieved the seedling tray he'd filled with specimens of the species Isk had taken and presented them proudly. Keeping them alive had been a trick, but he'd gotten the whim in the deep lands and the Living Force had served him well. He liked plants, and they liked him back.

The shrunken old woman examined them. "They are the correct species." she said. "And they are alive." She looked shrewdly at Qui-Gon. "You collected these yourself? On the Run?"

"Yep."

"You did it breathing our air, shallow-kin? Without any, ah, artificial interference?"

"Yes, I did. Ask Isk." Qui-Gon said, pointing to where his friend was sitting. The poor kid looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but nodded.

"How did you know which to take?"

"They sang the same as the ones Isk cut." Qui-Gon frowned. "Er...do I have to burn them?"

Dooku gave Qui-Gon a long and thoughtful look "Singer Andem?" he asked blandly.

"The offering is acceptable as given." Andem's eyes met Qui-Gon's in quiet and amused approval. "I am glad to see you are fulfilling _your_ responsibilities here, Idis." Dooku cleared his throat, but said nothing.

Anare gave the woman a sharp look, but merely laughed quietly. "Still. One shallow-kin boy?" Her voice was contemptuous. "An arrogant stranger, to stand here with only that at your back. Sit down, Dooku. This is no place for your games."

Indrea moved to speak, but Dooku waved him down. He studied Anare, and stretched out his hand. Qui-Gon saw a glint of metal on it. "The Lord Execsar gave me this, lady Vicereine. It is by _his_ will I stand here tonight, on the strength of his word and his gift." He glanced at Qui-Gon, who took that as his cue to sit down.

Anare looked down at what Dooku held in his open palm. Craning his neck Qui-Gon made out what looked to be a silver ring. "Serenn's-- give me that!" the Vicereine exclaimed in sudden fury. "That's mine, and it was not his to give you!"

Dooku's hand closed around the ring again, and then he turned and hurled it into the fire. Qui-Gon _felt_ rather than saw it stop in the heart of the flames, hovering in the hottest part.

"Take it, then." Dooku's voice was dangerously low. Qui-Gon started to get a very bad feeling about this. His Master was scrupulously just, brilliant, indomitable and wise. However, he was not a merciful man, nor a particularly kind one. There were whispers in the temple about Dooku.

The Contessa paced around the fire, seemingly entranced. She raised her voice, chiding Dooku wearily. "It doesn't even fit you. It never fit Indagren either. Neither you nor Father had any respect for Serenn's legacy. You would destroy this relic of her now out of spite. You take and take, and what have you given in return, Dooku? You come home with no thought of contribution, only the destruction of everything I have worked to accomplish. Immaturity." She stared at him. "You don't belong here. Leave us. Have the galaxy for all I care. But leave me _my_ world."

"You never wished for equals." Dooku said. "Why you never wed. Why you created us chimaera-children. It's not your world, lady mother. Not yet."

"You were a beautiful creation." Anare said. "A work of art. I watched you develop every day. I loved you, you know. And I cried when I realized what was horribly and irrevocably wrong with you. That my little boy was dead, and in his place was this _changeling_, cruel and demon-wise."

Dooku's mouth twisted. "You must have been horrified when you realized I had a mind of my own, that I would not consent to being shaped to your will through lies and manipulations. That I realized what you were doing, and your very thoughts betrayed you, as they still do." Dooku walked up to her and took her chin in his hand, looking down at her. His voice was soft. "Have you realized yet how far I have surpassed you?"

"You're not satisfied with anything. Not with whatever purpose the Force stole my child for. You want to take everything from me." She stepped away. "You're still that bitter little boy, deep down. You always will be, and you can't make him go away by my destruction."

Dooku sighed. He turned and walked close to the fire, closer than the white safety circle around it.Qui-Gon felt him channel the Force with awe-inspiring strength as he reached into the fire with both hands, plucked the ring out of the air and fit it on the smallest finger of his right hand. The fire flared up suddenly, blue at the core, lighting all their faces strangely. Dooku displayed the ring on his untouched hand before returning to the Vicereine. Disbelieving murmurs started up, and Qui-Gon remembered what Dooku had said about the danger of fire in these lands.

"A parlor trick." Anare said. Fearless, she walked up to her son, who smiled slightly as he looked down at her. Qui-Gon saw that smile and shivered. Dooku's shields were shattering with the effort he was putting into shielding himself from the heat of the ring, and Qui-Gon sensed a cold triumph within, and the echoes of a vengeful fury. His Master had many facets, and one of the most deeply hidden was the demagogue, the manipulator. If Dooku was letting the his inner drama queen out to play, that meant _trouble_.

Qui-Gon wanted to scream at Anare, to tell her Dooku wasn't bluffing, that he _didn't _bluff. But it was too late--Anare confidently reached for Dooku's hand, seizing the ring. She knew her mistake immediately. The Vicereine screamed, the furious heat mangling the soft flesh of her palm and it burst into flame. Qui-Gon felt Dooku quench the fire that threatened to consume her after a moment, but she still collapsed to the floor, clutching scorched and sizzling flesh to her chest. Her face was clenched in pain, but Anare choked down her sobbing shrieks after a few seconds and huddled in silence, braving it out.

"No." Dooku said softly, making no move to help. "Not at all, Vicereine." He turned away. "You overreach, Anare, as you always have. Blood is not enough to make you Indagren's heir, or his equal in these matters."

"I'm _Serenn's_ heir!" Anare snarled, tears in her eyes. "Not my dotard father's!"

"Perhaps." Dooku said. He glanced at the ring on his hand. "Perhaps not. But your birthright is something you must live up to. You may become greater than you ever dreamed. If you learn wisdom. If you hold yourself to the highest standard you can concieve of. Serenno deserves all you have to give, and more, and you must give it all of yourself. An Execsar is not first a lord, he is first a servant."

Anare sneered. "And you are so _eager_ to serve."

Dooku half-smiled at her. "I am a servant of the will of the Force. I always have been." He reached down with his left hand to help her up. "Will you yield to me then, mother?"

Anare jerked away. "_Never._"

Dooku's voice rose as he turned to address the crowd. "And you, cohortmen of Serenno?"

"Always." Indrea said, the first voice raised. Murmuring sprang up, and Qui-Gon saw the engraving on his right chair arm begin to glow in pale green and white. Two runes now rose out of that surface. From beside him, Isk saw his confusion. He whispered, "You want that one," pointing at the silvery character.

Qui-Gon thought only a moment before pressing the silver rune down.

Light played over the dark ceiling, as sparks of white appeared there seemingly out of nowhere. Green pinpoints swirled with them, but the white outnumbered the green. At first this was tentative, and then the white began to sweep across, gathering momentum. Qui-Gon realized that the green stars were flaring bright silver as votes were rethought. The pinpoints joined in a single glow, and the room was starkly lit in white. Only a faint green glow remained in the milky and pearlescent ceiling.

Dooku and the others in the center made no move, watching as the judgment of the colony unfolded. Qui-Gon saw the hint of a smile on his master's face as the light played over it.

And then Dooku grasped Indrea's hands, pulling them together, careful to put his left under his right to shield the heat of the ring. "The cascade has spoken, and I speak now for us all. And I name you Execsar, cousin mine."

There was utter silence. Indrea tried to pull away, but seemed to find Dooku's grip unbreakable. "I can't accept this, Idis." The other man's voice was a little strangled. "And I'm not actually sure you can do that."

The reflection of blue flame gleamed in Dooku's eyes. "I don't think anyone can stop me. And it certainly never stopped _Mother_."

"I...can't."

"Are you sure you want to cross me on this, Indrea?" Dooku smiled, but Qui-Gon could not read him at all. "You are manifestly qualified to run the damn planet. You've been trained for this role. You've been doing it for years."

"I was Indagren's servant," Indrea said. "It was different."

"Not so different," Dooku said. "And when I leave, it will be as it was before, except only that Indagren has left us. There will be strife and the Vicereine will make trouble, but that _is_ why we keep her around, after all." His patronizing glance back at her was almost fond, and was answered by bared teeth.

"I... are you certain?"

_"Yes._" Dooku's voice held absolute conviction. Qui-Gon grinned suddenly. It was completely forbidden for a Jedi to accept political appointments, but he was sure nobody had ever seen the need to make a rule about _making_ them.

Indrea closed his eyes briefly. "Very well. But I am _your_ man, Idis."

Dooku was still a moment, and then nodded slowly. Indrea took a deep breath. The room was still very quiet as the Serenni man walked up to the dais, ran a hand over the arm of the chair, and took a seat. When he looked up, it seemed his moment of vulnerability had passed, and Qui-Gon thought he could see for a moment what Dooku must have percieved in the man.

Dooku stepped back. "Let it be so." he said, and inclined his head slowly.

"Will you be returning?" Indrea said after a short pause.

"Perhaps some day," Dooku said. His Coruscant accent had instantly returned. "Not soon. There are too many things I need to accomplish - to learn. About being and becoming." He looked at Qui-Gon. "And also things I need to teach."

"As you will," Indrea said. He smiled slightly. "Dismissed."

Qui-Gon saw the flash in Dooku's eyes, and the look of shared amusement that passed between him and the new Execsar. Dooku bowed deeply and walked away. A nod to Qui-Gon indicated he should follow, and Qui-Gon stood, nearly missing Dooku's fingers weaving a brief signal. He had to think to recognize it, since he had only seen the sign once or twice in his entire apprenticeship.

_Well done._


	5. Epilogue

They never did talk about it until long afterwards. After all was said and done, Dooku directed Qui-Gon immediately to Thornwing's small bacta chamber, murmuring something about possible lung damage. The burn on his leg faded to a faint scar over the days it took them to return to Coruscant. When Qui-Gon emerged, the threat of a Talk spurred him into mildly terrified obedience for a few days before he realized Dooku was not going to bring any of it up, and if Qui-Gon wanted to talk about it he would have to raise the issue himself. His Master's written report to the Council was...pure Dooku. It was terse, to the point, entirely truthful, and it left all the important stuff out.

The package was delivered to their door months later. The youngling making the delivery was very curious - Padawans, as a rule, did not get mail. Dooku had to come and approve before the child would even give it to Qui-Gon.

It was quite heavy. Qui-Gon frowned, looking over the the address as he walked back into their common area. He tabbed to the 'from' field and blinked when he saw a Serenni rune. "Can you read this for me, Master?"

Dooku put a hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder. He leaned down, and his fingernail traced the name-rune thoughtfully. "Vicereine Anare."

"Oh." Qui-Gon's voice was small.

"Are you going to open it?" Dooku asked. His voice was even, but the hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder tightened its grip.

"Do I have to?"

Dooku laughed softly. Qui-Gon thumbed the entry pad on the label, signifying acceptance of the package. It flipped open, and Qui-Gon sucked in his breath.

Inside was a timed light, a nutrient gel, and growing in an expanding, perfect spiral, a woody vine bearing tiny perfect yellow roselets. The familiar scent wafted out, swiftly filling the room. "_Oh_." he said softly.

"Isn't that something..." Dooku said. "I wonder what she means by it?"

Qui-Gon frowned a little."I don't know. It's beautiful, but..." He touched it, then closed the box. "It's almost like it's not real. It's something she made, and it seems less valuable because of that. It isn't nature creating it, isn't the will of the Force that gave it form and beauty, but the laboratory I walked through. She could make a thousand more exactly like it. Somewhere there's a database with all the genes, and how she tested them - a lab notebook, maybe. The failures disposed of. She could write a paper on it, if she wanted to. It's so deliberate. There's no spontaneous joy about it's existence. No mystery."

"Are you talking about the flower or your Master?" Dooku asked lightly. Qui-Gon winced as he mentally reviewed his last few sentences. _Whoops_.

"I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't." Dooku said. He sighed and left the room.

Qui-Gon waited a minute and flipped the box open, examining the rose plant once more. He had no doubt it was designed specifically for him. He'd told her about his garden, after all. Dooku had refused to allow him to take the other plants he collected off-planet, as they were government property. Perhaps he could find a place for it. It was an extraordinary creation.

He glanced guiltily at the door.

A place of honor, even.

(end)


End file.
